PastTense, A Frozen Heart
by TimeTrader
Summary: "I know how it feels to be perfect... it's not that great." That was her excuse for, what seemed, everything. It confused them; who wouldn't want to be perfect? But he truly saw what she meant. And what he saw frightened him. She was dead inside.
1. Once Upon a Sad Beginning

Ok, well, this is my first Ouran High School Host Club fic, so if you could go easy on the harshness, that would be very much appreciated.

This is honestly just a prologue; the actual story starts next story, but this will help make thing less confusing.

**Warning(_s_): Just a bit of gore, nothing much, suicide, language, and no Beta-reader**

All I can say now is Read and Review, please!

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><p><strong><span>3rd Person POV<span>**

Kiki Nora wanted to die.

Six feet under, pushing up daises, **dead as dirt**; she _really_ wanted to die.

Did Miss Kiki Nora have a tragic and depressing childhood? Was she being bullied and harassed at school? Was her boyfriend a total ass to her and forced her into sex? Was she raped and molested at one point in time…?

The answer to all of this: _No_.

Kiki Nora was the wealthy, perfect daughter of rich company owner Alexander Nora and beautiful child of famous actress Alicia Nora. Both were terribly loved parents who always stopped what they were doing if Kiki needed them. Oh yes, such amazing parents they were…

Kiki was also the most popular seventeen year old girl at Richmond's Private Academy. Everything she wanted there was hers. A handsome and caring boyfriend, a school-wide group of 'Always-there-for-you' friends, stupendous grades, and looks to go with it.

With long, flowing platinum blonde hair and complementing Emerald eyes, she was a fallen Angel, it seemed. Flawless cream colored skin was always covered with the latest fashions of cashmere and silk. Plus her body type always left her piers with dropped jaws. She was what every woman wanted, all in one unearthly being. With a chest just big enough to fit any blouse perfectly and hips that make the jeans look good, she was a goddess.

Yes, Kiki was perfect and, to go with it, she was happy! Everything always went her way.

And she was abso-fucking-lutely sick of it.

Why did everything in her God forsaken life have to be so dame happy and perfect? Was she not allowed to experience any sort of trauma? Was she not allowed to have a legitimate reason to cry? Well **FUCK**! That wasn't fair!

She was the only one of her friends that couldn't complain of boyfriend troubles. She couldn't say what a dick and he was how he should just burn in hell; no, she couldn't say that! Well, she could, but everyone would just laugh and say '_Oh, what a joke_!'

Why did she have to be born with the perfect life? Everyone always said they were envious; well damn! They could have it! Were they ignorant enough to think there was actually any fun left?

This was the reason Kiki Nora wanted to die: she was bored.

Finally coming to the conclusion of this, she had smiled in the mirror of her oversized dorm room and, calm as ever, grabbed the thin, shiny blade hidden in her gilded music box.

Plopping down on the king bed, she drew a simple line across her left wrist. Fascinated, she gazed at the warm, red liquid as it oozed from her flesh.

'_Not deep enough,_' she decided in her head.

With a demented smile, she shoved the blade in harder, deeper than last time, and swiped it across her wrist, splattering blood onto the white sheets and lavender walls. With a squeal of delight, she repeated the gesture to her right, all while mumbling trash like, '_my, oh, my. That will leave a nasty scar. Mother dearest certainly won't be pleased_.' Or even, '_Tsk, tsk. I should be ashamed in myself; the maids will have such a difficult time scrubbing out the carpet!_' And at that thought, she gave such a powerful laugh that she shook to her bones. Oh yes, how delightful! What a mess everywhere!

A gasp cut her off; a powerful sense of fatigue suddenly over took her, practically forcing her body down on the stained sheets. She didn't fight it, though. This was certainly too much fun.

Her emerald orbs clouded, her eye-shadow-covered lids, and her pants of laughter weakened.

'_So this is dying…_'

Her lips turned up in a sincere smile.

'_How interesting…_'

The dull thudding of her heart ceased; everything was silenced.

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><p>This is the story of the girl who wanted nothing more than to be '<em>Ordinary<em>.'

This is the story of the boy who was just trying to make it through the _day_.

This is the story of the girl who _gave her life_ in our world away in exchange for a second chance at something _different_.

This is the story of the _rich, handsome boy_ who was trying to guide his loving brother while still being _his own person_.

**_This is the story of the girl who had somehow managed to change everything, including her own, frozen, heart._**

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	2. Telling a Models So Called Tragedy

No reviews? How heart-breaking...

Well, this is technically the first chapter of the story (_it's not very good though..._) a few main characters have yet to be introduced. Bad writer. Bad.

**Warning(_s_):** Just a certain model being a total smart-ass...

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club. I wish I did, though...**

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><p>In Japan, a male man has the most power in his family. He will have the first and final say in everything that requires decision. He has made the rules, and he will in force them with an iron fist of power. Yes, some would say that the Male species is defiantly dominant to the Female race.<p>

But, then again, those certain individuals were _total morons_.

A male figure in Japan could do anything they wanted, but if he even mumbled the name Harumi Shiraga, you can bet the next topic would be about divorce.

Out of all the Japanese Woman in the world, Harumi Shiraga was voted number one Personality, number one for Looks, and number one Female Figure.

At sixteen, Harumi Shiraga was the most well-known model.

The word '**Beauty**' was out of her _shadows_ league.

'**Drop-Dead-Gorgeous**' cowered in her presence.

And '**Intimidating**' was her best friend.

After only a month in the modeling business, she was no longer defined with common words. Her appearance was called something along the lines of "_Milk chocolate hair, Intense Mahogany eyes, and Soft angel skin_", with a personality total opposite; consisting of "_A Devious She-Demon_."

Woman envy her, men want her. What isn't there to love?

The answer is clear. Last year, on her fifteenth birthday, Harumi was the victim of a fatal car wreck.

On her way to the local Hospital, Harumi died three times from multiple lacerations and sever head trauma. She revived within seconds of each death, but once she reached the hospital, things were looking very grim in her favor. Then, there, in the operating room, young star, Harumi Shiraga died once again, this time for seventy minutes straight.

But, as we, her devoted fans, prayed for her well being, she awoke on her own!

Her doctors have concluded that she must have gone into a slight coma from the initial shock of the situation, though most fans aren't so sure that's all that happened that night.

Once Shiraga-San left the Doctor's care, it was obvious that something was very different about her.

Instead of her cute, bubbly attitude we all had come to know, Harumi was cold, uncaring, and completely dark. Instead of responding negatively to this suddenly change in personality, her fans ate it up, totally engrossing themselves in the newest, darkest, Harumi Shiraga.

Tabloid nicknamed her "The She-Demon," which she gladly accepted as her permanent title.

Using this new title to their advantage, designers and photographers everywhere signed with Shiraga-San and brought on the 'Dark Pop' Era to the fashion industry. Designers now admit that, if there had never been an accident, our latest and hottest fashions would never have been designed. So, a big thanks to you, Shiraga-San!

What will you influence next?

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><p><em>Che<em>. "I'll influence everyone to knock you upside your fat head…"

An older woman, thirty-two, looked up from her beloved Dell laptop. Pulling her glasses down the bridge of her nose, she studied the younger child carefully. "Something wrong, Harumi?"

The model looked over, an annoyed look on her perfect face, before she collapsed on her plush couch. "Of course there's something wrong, Saki," she began in an overly-exasperated tone. "There's always a damn problem! Which one do you want to hear first? Your choices are the same as ever; A, B, or C?"

Saki narrowed her jade eyes, shooting imaginary lasers through Harumi's pretty little head. "You know," she started. "I think I liked you better before your accident."

"Congratulations! You have chosen choice A! _Ding-Ding-Ding_!" Saki resisted the urge to flip off her client. "Why does everyone seem to practically breathe off the oxygen wasted on re-telling my sad little story?"

Saki, rather forcefully, shut her laptop, pulled off her thin-rimmed glasses, and sighed with slight anger. "For the _**six hundredth and thirty-ninth time**_, trauma and tragedy is probably the best gossip material out there, besides '_who-ever got knocked-up by what-ever._' And you, darling, have both of those thing."

Harumi looked up, one crafted brow arched as if for a picture. "I'm pregnant? Since when?" She smirked when she saw her favorite manager stiffen in annoyance. Deciding to play her '_Devious She-Demon_' role, she asked, in an overly innocent voice, "Saki-San, how do people get pregnant?" All the color drained from the woman's face as she began babbling on and on about useless material that Harumi already knew. But the model enjoyed anyhow.

Besides, what else was there to do?

Ah, yes. Without her dear manager, Saki-Chan, _Harumi would get oh so bored_.

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><p>Harumi stretched out across the black leather of the long, limo seat, her head resting on Saki's lap. "So, Ms. Manager, who has me today; <em>Apollo, Fletcher, Momoya, Hidalgo, Christopher<em>?" Harumi smiled.

Saki's beeping on her PDA finally stopped, meaning she was ready to stab her smart-mouthed client with her cheap, French-tip manicure. But alas, no blood shed came (_not like it ever came_) and the poor, abused manager simply stated, "We have Hitachiin booked for the next..." more beeping. "Six months."

Harumi's demented smile faded into a small, sweet one. "That's good."

Out of all those she had worked with before, Hitachiin-Sama was by far her favorite. She enjoyed the older woman's happy, active, and preppy attitude. It always brightened Harumi's day to see the smiling designer nod her head in approval when a picture came out perfect, or when a turn on the runway left the front row VIP's gasp in admiration. And not only that, but Hitachiin-Sama was like a second mother to her, always doting and playfully scolding her. It reminded her so much of her Mother Dearest from so long ag-

Harumi sat up straight, almost hitting her head on the roof of the long car.

**No, no, no**! She could not think back to that. Those memories were banished from her mind the day she woke up in that cold hospital bed. She couldn't remember; she wouldn't. Not after what she had done to get this far…

Masking her feelings once more, Harumi sat up, straightened her black dress, and gazed out the window.

Sighing, she glared at nothing in particular.

Well, there went her good mood.


	3. A Model Has No Oppinion

Well, I'm proud to say here's Chapter 3 of **PastTense, A Frozen Heart**. Thank you to all who have read so far and have reviewed, faved, and added to their alerts. Much appreciated! Oh, and the next chapter will be in Harumi's point of view, ok?

See you then!

~Simza

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><p><strong>Warning(<em>s<em>): Nothing, as usual. No Beta Reader...**

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><p>It was always the same.<p>

"Hello, Haru-Chan! How is the Top Model of the year today?"

The designer would outstretch her arms and offer the girl the same affection a mother would.

A smile lit up Harumi's face.

This was the part of Harumi's job she didn't mind in the least.

Harumi didn't hesitate to return the friendly hug the older woman offered. They were, after all, pretty close friends.

Using her perfectly rehearsed exasperated tone, Harumi sighed and let her head drop to the side. "It's been a long, long day…"

Ms. Hitachiin arched a brow and smiled. Leading Harumi off to one of the plush couches, she laughed lightly and patted the models head. "But it's only ten in the morning."

"Exactly my point; It's much too early to start drinking. Though, I wouldn't mind a shot of tequila right about now…" Both laughed at their own personal joke.

Finally getting on to business, Ms. Hitachiin pulled her black sketch book from the crystal coffee table and handed it to Harumi. She flipped through the pages, admiring each pencil line and small sample of fabric in the corners of the pages.

"As you can see," Ms. Hitachiin began, "The fall collection is beginning, so the color schemes are going to be much more dramatic. The darker units will be paired with at least one bright accessory. The fabrics will be much thicker than the summer ones, but you'll still be able to move and breathe easily in them. Now the makeup…"

Harumi was no longer listening to her employer. Instead, she studied one certain sketch title "_Ouran_".

Her brows pulled together. This couldn't be part of the fall collection, it was much too…'**formal, school-girly**.' But it was still a pretty dress.

It seemed like the top part was off-white, double, button-down shirt, starting in a high collar and stopping just below the models breasts. The shoulders were puffed up with a maroon ribbon. The long sleeves were rimmed with a black, elaborate lace.

Picking up where the white shirt cut off, the 'skirt' part of the dress was rather long in length, stopping just below the knee. It was the same shade as the ribbons; late evening maroon. On a side picture, Harumi noted that at the top of the skirt, there was a long black bow. Raven Black tights followed to about mid-shin.

As for the shoes…they looked like regular black dress shoes, but at a side view, Harumi was surprised to see that they were actually ankle boots, with two inch heels and a short zipper in the back.

Harumi looked to the right hand corner of the stark white page and rubbed her fingers against the different fabric samples. The white was, as she suspected, dress-shirt material, only softer and less crisp than, say, Target shirts.

There were two different samples of maroon fabric; one, a smooth and lovely silk, and the other rich and heavenly; velvet.

The raven colored fabric square was a bit flexible; stretchy, and just as soft as the others.

"_**I'd also like to inform you that I've arranged a Marriage between you and my sons. I expect twelve grandchildren. Hopefully you'll have four sons and eight daughters.**_"

Harumi snapped her head up. _**"What?"**_

Ms. Hitachiin smirked and crossed her arms. "Don't worry; I'm just kidding. But I **expect** you to listen when I speak, ok?"

With a sigh and eye roll, Harumi handed her the sketch book. "Can you tell me what this dress is for?"

Ms. Hitachiin glanced at the picture then smiled. "What do you think it's for, first of all? And do you like it?"

The Model slumped back and stared at the stain glass ceiling. "I really like it; nice, formal, but not too uptight; it has character and I love it. But, well…it's too formal for the fall collection. It's too little for the winter collection…" Harumi tilted her head to the side. "I have no damn clue what it's for." She sat up. "But let me guess, you're going to tell me anyway and ask a favor."

Laughing, Ms. Hitachiin nodded. "It's a new design for the Female's uniform at the Academy my sons attend. Their old ones went out of fashion and nearly all of the high school students were asking for something new, different and fresh. My boys even told me about their dilemma and I decided to take it upon myself to come up with a more modern look."

Harumi raised a brow. "Translation: The rich kids were getting bitchy and wanted a new outfit. Your sons complained and you had to shut them up. Am I right?"

Hitachiin-Sama stood and placed a hand over her heart. "Oh, how you know me so, Haru-Chan."

Harumi would have smiled but her cheeks were starting to hurt a bit. "So the request?"

Ms. Hitachiin pouted. "Oh, boo; you're no fun." Smiling at the look her favorite model gave her, she continued, more professionally with, "I would like you to model the dress for me-" She raised a hand when her Haru-Chan opened her mouth to question the odd modeling job. "Just a moment; I'd for you to model the dress for me as a _student at Ouran Academy_."

Harumi felt like she had just ran straight into a concrete wall. Harumi Shiraga; going to school? That was a laugh! Why, Harumi hadn't been to school since her accident! And Hitachiin-Sama expected her to make it as an everyday student? The woman must be mad to think she could survive! Besides, Models didn't need an education; all they needed was the '_look_', a great diet, and know how to run full speed in stilettos. (Harumi was in all three categories, by the way.)

"The only reason I want to send you as a student is so you can get the daily life of one; the better you know one, the better you can analyze the uniform. Will you do it?"

Harumi gulped and looked over to Saki, who was, as usual, on her baby- _er_, laptop. "Well, _Saki-Chan_? Do I have time in my _**very busy**_ schedule to attend…school?" Harumi could barely spit out the last word.

Saki looked up, drawing her glasses down the bridge of her nose. "Of course you do; don't be silly." The dense, older woman pushed the thin rimmed glassed but up her nose and looked down at the purple computer. While typing, she continued speaking to her now distraught model. "We'll stop by the school tomorrow and enroll you; you'll be able to start fall classes next week, when the break is over."

Harumi's eye twitched and Ms. Hitachiin clapped her hands together. "Excellent! And then after school lets out, I'll arrange for a car to pick you up and drop you off at the _Chantell_ building!"

"W-wait!" What were they doing?

"Alright, Harumi, that's it for this appointment! I'll see you next week, darling!" Ms. Hitachiin cheered as she walked away.

"C'mon, Harumi; the car's waiting on us."

And with that, the poor, confused model was literally dragged out of the building, mumbling threats to karma and the world.

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><p>Ms. Hitachiin sighed sweetly as she sipped her tea. It was such a joy to see her little Haru-Chan again! She wished she could have spent more time with her, but it was about time for her sons to show up.<p>

"Hey, Mom!"

"We're here!"

Ms. Hitachiin laughed and set down her tea. "Well, speak of the devils!" She turned the corner of the large office and smiled lovingly at her twin boys. "And how are you two doing? Did you go shopping for school clothes today?"

The elder of the two, Hikaru, nodded and smiled at his mother. "Yup, we did."

His younger brother, Kaoru, nodded along with his brother and laughed. "Are you ready to criticize our poor choices in clothing?"

She hesitated a moment then shook her head, hugging each twin at the same time. "I'm afraid not, darling. I have a few commissions and units to finish first, so why don't you two go ahead and head home." She looked into their handsome faces. "Then I'll really chew you out on why you both need me to come along shopping."

They all shared one final laugh before Ms. Hitachiin sent them on their way.

Once they were out of the building, Ms. Hitachiin covered her mouth with her hand, trying desperately to hold in the agonized sob. Her boys… Her poor, lonely boys…

Taking a breath to steady herself, she sat in her roller chair and clasped her hands in front of her face.

Her precious children where closing up again. But this time, she wouldn't let them. She wouldn't loose them a second time.

Harumi's folder slid off the ivory desk and landed with a dull _Thud _on the lush carpet.

She glanced down. All of the models information and head shots had spilled out, making a mess. Wiping her eyes, she bent down and picked up a rather beautiful facial picture of Harumi; a rare smile on the teen's face.

The designer sniffled and set the photo on her desk. Smiling down at the picture, she wiped away the fresh tears that were threatening to pore over.

Yes, she was going to use Harumi Shiraga to bring her son's back, even if it meant breaking the poor Models heart.

And nothing would stop her.

She needed her sons; needed them. And she'd do anything to protect them, even at the expense of another.

Laughing softly to herself, she picked the photo up and, as if speaking to it, whispered, "I am so sorry."


End file.
